Personal Space
by Raphanizein
Summary: What should be a punishment can become a haven. Human!Space. Rating K to be on the safe side. Probably wrong category, oh well.


**AN: This was something short and fairly cute I wrote for a friend's birthday. I use 'Neil' as human!Space's name because I was too lazy to think of anything original. This might be a K rather than a K+, but it depends how subtle certain hints are.**

**This is part of what's been nicknamed the 'Employee Punishment' series, because I have a similar fic about Anger that will probably be the next to be uploaded.**

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Neil wasn't scared yet. It was in his best interests to look so, though, as he was bundled into the Nook. 'Sparse' was almost too descriptive a word for it. 'Blank' would be better - white tiles covered almost every surface of a chamber not much bigger than a cupboard. A single bulb was fitted into the ceiling, connected to the button that was so easy to miss by the door. The room was bare and desolate and Neil knew it by heart. Not that it was his fault, he reasoned as the door - white and tiled, of course - slammed shut behind him and locks clicked into place. No, it wasn't his fault he got sent for time-out so often, like some kind of overgrown child. It was his colleagues. What a miserable bunch they were, no matter how much he tried to cheer them up by chattering about space. They were astrophysicists, mostly, they were supposed to _like_ space! If anything, the more he talked the more irritated they seemed to get! It didn't make much sense.

Frowning a little, he dug through his pockets. Bit of string, a little loose change, miscellaneous fluff… where was that… other pocket. Both elbows bumped against the walls as he rummaged for his pocket's usual occupant. There it was. He carefully retrieved the bundle of paper and unwrapped it. Its contents were fairly unremarkable to look at - if there had been room for another person in there to look over his shoulder, they would have assumed Neil had taken out some chewing gum. It was actually a prototype putty; a decent adhesive when damp and glow-in-the-dark to boot. It was also a somewhat volatile source of electricity, unfortunately. Any touch had the potential to send a violent shock through whatever had come into contact with it. Neil placed it in his mouth and chewed.

Each worker's punishment was tailored to their own personal fears. To work at Aperture, one of the many unorthodox features on the applicant forms had been a near-blank page. Typed at the top was an instruction for them to list their phobias in excruciating detail. The forms would later be sent off for analysis. Any applicant whose form showed no trace of terror-induced sweat would be rejected. Nothing motivated the Aperture workforce like a good healthy dose of fear. It built character. That and towers of forms covered in words like 'PTSD' and 'nervous breakdown' and 'lawyers', but those were usually burnt in the winter.

In any case Neil, like every other member of staff that had listed as claustrophobic, would be locked in an Aperture Claustro-Enactment Corrective Cubicle whenever his colleagues complained about him enough. The name was bigger than the rooms, which had since been nicknamed Nooks. The chewing was taking his mind off it, helping to keep his breathing relaxed, although he could do nothing for the sheen of sweat clinging to his face or the anxious darting of his eyes. He didn't want to push his luck with the putty. He pulled the damp glob into his palm and plucked a tiny bit off, then stuck it to the ceiling directly above him. Another blob was placed beside it, a little bigger. Neil worked quickly and almost automatically. The dots spread across the ceiling in a sprawling pattern that Neil knew perfectly. Soon he'd run out of room and continued along the walls. The man's heartbeat was picking up and sweat trickled down his temple; he had to finish soon. The Nook was getting to him. Not enough space. He was panicking. Soon. Soon it'd be done. A few more, and… Yes, there. Off-white specks were dotted across the room's surfaces like sprinkles on a cake. Neil ran his fingers along the wall by the door, feeling for the switch, and pressed the nondescript square. Darkness flooded the room. Within a few moments a dim glow emanated from the tiny blobs of putty and grew brighter every second, until pinpricks of light were spread across the Nook. Neil smiled, letting his tension escape with a sigh. One hand lifted to the ceiling and his finger traced affectionately along the smooth tiles and bumps of gum, drawing out the patterns of his beloved constellations.

"Northern Hemisphere, Summer. North." He ran his finger over a thin loop of blobs, then branched outward over a few further dots. "Ursa Major." A nearby diamond with a sort of tail. "Ursa Minor." A great long curve above that with a boxlike head. "Draco." By creating his own night sky, Neil wasn't frightened of the Nook. He almost giggled. Here he could indulge his love of space with no colleagues to roll their eyes or tell him to shut up and let them work. Neil's eyes were wide and eager, like a fascinated child's, as he mapped out the crooked cross of Cygnus, the rocket-like shape (a personal favourite) of Cepheus, the jags of Lacerta and Cassiopeia, the distinctive equine outline of Camelopardalis and the long Lynx just below Ursa Major, gabbling the names of each as he worked. He would spend however many hours he would be left in here for simply mapping out and reciting every constellation there was. Of course, he'd have to take every dot down and roll it back up into the blob that resided in his pocket. He couldn't let the management find out his secret. Rumour had it that if a worker's punishment became ineffective, they ended up as some kind of research project, and not necessarily as a Test Subject either. But for now, the man was content in his own personal space.


End file.
